At home-group a while back, a story came out of me which for some reason I’d never told, and after the telling of it and a subsequent lengthy discussion, there was a space of silence.
“We need prayer too,” one guy said finally. We all turned to him and waited. “So there’s another baby.” You could hear the combined suck-in of our breaths.
A mere four months ago, this young man and his wife had adopted a two-day-old boy. Adopting another newborn would mean two children under 12 months. Plus their five- and eight-year old son and daughter. Would it steal the important first-year moments from their new little guy? Could they handle two, dependent-for-everything, tiny humans, kind of like twins born a few months apart?
As if in school, I raised my hand. The young dad pointed to me.
“So I ‘heard’ something.” I scratched quote marks in the air around the word heard. “Four words. As soon as you said ‘another baby.’”
He rolled his hand in the yeah-get-on-with-it gesture.
I counted on my fingers as I spoke. “There. Is. Grace. Enough.”
I watched assurance dart across his face but it didn’t linger, didn’t seem to permeate the rest of his body. His posture was stretched tight by “what if.” Across the room though, his eyes met his wife’s and I thought I saw the smallest of nods.
After discussing the possible up and down sides of the situation, our group prayed together, for our friends to have wisdom and discernment with the decision.
The young mother sent out a group text the next morning. “We decided to move forward on this potential adoption.” For 20 minutes, my phone pinged with texts. “Yay!” “I’m so happy for you!” “I’m here if you ever need help.”
Two weeks later came the news that the teen mother decided to parent her baby which is really a beautiful thing. Still, I wondered if my friends were awash with emotions—disappointment and relief, guilt for feeling relief.
I texted the group saying how more than once I’ve said yes to God with fear and trembling, and honestly, a tinge of grumpiness, only to have a situation dissipate.
“I think there are times God simply wants to witness our obedience.”
The young mother answered. “Amen and amen! I feel so encouraged by this opportunity. I feel less afraid than ever to follow Him and more than ever, I know that He is good.” I felt pulled taut by her trust.
It’s a beautiful thing how the Spirit works in a community of believers, a needle and thread, stitching us together. Mending each of us, all of us, as needed. Fashioning multiple individuals into something brand new: a single, beautiful, interdependent creation.
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. ~ Acts 2:42-47